Not Talking
by Rat
Summary: Matt has been drugged and Foggy is taking care of him. "I really want you to try and stop talking. Can you do that?"
1. Chapter 1

Life is strange. Foggy already knows this. Foggy knows life is strange because he has a frequent customer card at a tobacconist even though he has never smoked tobacco. He knows life is strange because he isn't a butcher.

Foggy grew up in Hell's Kitchen and he still thinks people are generally well intentioned and good. Life is strange.

He suspects that he has cheated fate and the aberration in what should have been the life of Foggy is going to come back and bite him hard in the ass. Maybe it already has.

Life is even stranger when your best friend is a masked vigilante.

Which leads to one of the more stranger moments that Foggy has ever experienced in his relatively young life with the aforementioned best friend/vigilante sitting on his couch, leaning to one side and talking.

No, this ins't talking. Matt is spewing words. Matt is dictating a private conversation taking place two floors below Foggy's apartment.

"You have to stop." Foggy pleads.

 _They injected me with something._ That was as coherent as Matt came to explaining what went wrong. Matt didn't always share what he did when he went out, and Foggy didn't always ask. That didn't change the fact that Matt often ended up at Foggy's apartment at some point in the evening and Foggy is freaking grateful that Matt was able to think coherently enough to come to him tonight. Foggy shudders to think of his friend in this kind of condition out of the streets alone. He didn't think he could ever get used to the idea of Matt getting hurt, but hey, he was adapting to the new normal.

It would be nice, though, if Matt could stop dictating Mrs and Mr Hudson's discussion on the finer points of their swinging status with the Phillips down the hall. Foggy doesn't want to know what kind of shenanigans his elderly neighbours are getting up to. All the same, kudos to them for still getting it up at all. We should all be so lucky in our eighties.

"I smell Marci." Matt says.

"Marci?" Foggy can't help but repeat. "What? You mean she's in the building?" It wouldn't be the first time. Come to think of it, Foggy's little apartment is disturbingly busy in the middle of the night these days.

"No. She's been here." Matt says. He isn't leaning anymore. He's laying on his side with his face pressed against the couch cushion. "She sat here."

"Okay buddy, let's get you back up." Foggy hooks his hand around Matt's arm and wrestles him back up into a non-couch sniffing posture. Matt leans back, his head tilted up towards the ceiling.

"She's not good for you."

"I know." Foggy agrees.

"I had sex with Marci." Matt said. "At Columbia."

"I don't need to know that."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Foggy laughs. "Marci does what she wants. And who."

"She talked about you."

"I really don't need to know that either." Foggy insists and he decides that maybe hearing about the sex lives of his geriatric neighbours isn't so bad after all. "Listen to me Matt. Do you remember what happened tonight?"

"I got away."

"You were drugged. Remember Claire?"

"I haven't had sex with her."

"Good to know, buddy. Focus okay?"

"I don't feel good." Matt groans. "I want to go home."

"I know. But I need you to stay here for now until you feel better. Claire said you're going to be okay. Do you remember she took a blood sample? She's going to slip it in at the lab to run some toxicology tests, but she thinks you'll be fine. You just need to sleep it off. I'm taking care of you until you feel more like yourself, but I really want you to try and stop talking. Can you do that?"

"Mrs Hudson just told her husband she wants a new vibrator. He thinks it's too expensive. What's wrong with the old one?"

"Matt!" Foggy shakes his friend's shoulder gently. "Do you want to listen to some music instead?"

"No. Your speakers are tinny."

"How about TV?"

"I don't like TV. The sound effects are wrong."

"Alright, buddy." Foggy pats Matt's arm. "How about we talk about something else instead then?"

"I like your voice Foggy."

"Will that help? If I talk?" Foggy offers. "You know my mother wanted me to be a butcher?"

Matt laughs. "She's proud of you. But, she thinks you have an unhealthy attachment to me."

"What? No she doesn't. My family loves you."

"I heard your parents talking. Last Thanksgiving. They like me because they love you." Matt reaches over and takes Foggy's hand. "They think we're in the closet. They're afraid to ask."

Foggy gently eases his hand out of Matt's grip and places his hand on his friend's forearm instead. "You should have told me sooner if it made you uncomfortable. I'll talk to them. They're just dramatic. They'll probably be disappointed there's nothing between us."

"There are so many things I don't tell you."

"I know, buddy. And that kind of pisses me off, but now's not the time to get into that." It would be so easy, Foggy thinks, but it wouldn't be fair. "When you're feeling better we'll talk. You should try and sleep."

"I'm not tired."

"Yes you are. If you are even a little bit suggestible right now, I suggest you feel very tired. Please be tired, Matt." Foggy waits a moment, crossing his fingers that his friend will simply close his eyes and follow his advice but of course that would be too easy. Matt's eyes continue to track things that Foggy can't hear. "Hey. I know what we can talk about. What colour should we paint our offices? I'm leaning towards fuchsia and gold. What do you think of fuchsia and gold as our official colours?"

"I think that would look terrible."

"Your office is already bright orange. I think it will match."

"It's white. Karen said it's white. She wants to pick out some art."

"How about dogs playing poker?" Foggy suggested, running with it.

"I told her to find something with a sky in it. A blue sky." Matt says wistfully. "She's right you know."

"That we need some art on the walls? Sure. You can have your picture of the sky and I'll take the dogs playing poker. I don't mind."

"Your mom. I think she's right about us, but she's worried you only love me because I need you."

Foggy feels his grip tighten on Matt's arm and forces himself to relax. "That must have sucked to listen to. I'll set her straight and explain things to her before Christmas."

"Is she right?" Matt asks.

"Matt." Foggy says softly. "We can not talk about this right now."

"I can't love you." Matt says, his voice breaking.

"I know. It's alright, we'll always be friends."

"Everyone I love leaves."

"I'm not going to leave you, Matt. We'll talk about it later, I promise. But not now; not while you're like this." Foggy puts his arm around Matt's shoulder and pulls him closer. "I'm going to tell you why Dunkin Donuts is better than Starbucks and you are going to be quiet and listen to me. It's really important that you listen to me and not say anything. The fate of the universe is at stake, and it all comes down to Dunkin Donuts versus Starbucks." Foggy takes a breath. He is determined to talk for for the rest of the night if that is what it takes.


	2. Chapter 2

Foggy wakes up alone, sprawled half on and half off his couch and a shooting pain in his neck when he looks to the right. It is late morning and the sun is shining through his livingroom window and directly onto his face. It's the weekend and he has no where specific to be though he had intended to spend at least part of the day at the office. He can't remember when Matt fell asleep last night, nor does he have any memory of his friend leaving this morning.

Aparently Matt changed back into his super-suit before leaving. Foggy's sweatpants and college t-shirt are hanging on the back of the chair.

There is also a note scrawled across a page of junk mail, and it takes a moment for Foggy to decipher Matt's distinctively illegible scrawl over the clearinghouse sweepstakes add. The fact that it just says, "Thanks", doesn't make Foggy feel any better about having wasted his time trying to read it.

So he calls him. The call connects on the third ring and Matt's voice sounds sleepy and thick.

 _Hi Foggy._

"You made it home alright?"

 _Yeah. Thanks._

"You're feeling better?"

 _I think so. Clair called. The lab couldn't identify the drug they used. She's going to come by this morning._

"So, you're okay then?"

 _I'm okay._

"You were pretty out of it last night. Do you remember anything?" Foggy asks hesitantly.

There's silence for what feels like a long time and Foggy wishes he had just an ounce of Matt's hearing ability so he could at least know his friend was still on the other end of the line.

 _Not, not really. I mean, I remember some things. Is there something? Something I should be remembering?_

Foggy cleared his throat. "Not that I'm aware of. You slept on my couch. I'm glad you're feeling better."

 _Thanks, Foggy. We'll, uh, I'll be at the office later today. After Clair. There's stuff I need to catch up on._

"Sure, buddy." Foggy answers. "Maybe I'll see you there." He says, but Matt has already disconnected the call.

* * *

The office is quiet. Foggy is alone. At least he thinks he is until he hears something thump in Matt's office and turns his head and sees his partner picking a coffee mug up off the floor.

"Need some help with that?" Foggy calls out. He watches Matt pause and then sit back on his heels.

"Paper towels." Matt calls back and Foggy grabs the closest thing to it he can find.

"Karen's scarf?" Matt asks.

"It's just coffee, right?"

"It won't stain?"

"It brown. It should blend in, right?" The scarf makes a terrible rag, but it sort of soaks up some of the mess. "Don't worry, I'll wash it."

Matt is back on his feet, leaning against his desk.

"You should be at home resting. You look tired." Foggy says.

"I could say the same to you."

"No you can't." Foggy counters.

Matt huffs a short laugh. "I know you're tired." He corrects himself.

Karen's scarf is soggy in his hand, but he's not sure what to do with it. "I should get a bag for this." He turns to walk out but Matt places a hand on his arm and he freezes. Matt seems frozen too. "Matt?"

"What…" Matt shifts his feet, tilts his head, and frowns all in one motion. He coughs and starts again. "Foggy, what colour is fuchsia?"

"Fuchsia?" Foggy asks.

Matt nodds. "What… is that like a pink?"

"Kind of like a mix between red and purple." Foggy explains.

Matt is breathing kind of fast. "You didn't choose to get involved in this."

"I choose to stay."

"We all pay for our choices." Matt replies. "What if the price is too high?"

"Still my choice to make." Foggy says.

Matt is still breathing hard. "She is right, you know."

Foggy really hopes that Matt isn't talking about Mrs Hudson's need for a new vibrator, but the way the conversation has gone so far he knows he can't count on anything at the moment. "Who is right about what?"

"Your mom. I do need you." Matt sounds like he is choking on broken glass.

Foggy closes the gap between himself and his friend, wrapping his arms tightly around his shoulders and pulling him as close as he possibly can. "I need you too." He whispers. "But that's not why I love you. There's so much more to it than that." Matt makes an incoherent noise against Foggy's shoulder and Foggy just hugs him closer. "You don't have to say anything. But when you're ready, I'll be waiting. No matter what. I'll wait for you forever if that's what you need."


End file.
